The Fresher's Fresh Start
by MadMoomin
Summary: After the death of his best friend, Hershel Layton now faces his toughest challenge yet: becoming an adult. Follow him as he encounters the twists and turns of University life, creates new friendships and discovers first love, while still having to cope with grief. (Minor Miracle Mask spoilers! The story is much better than the summary, please read and don't forget to review!)
1. PRO: The City of Going Somewhere

**Prologue: The City of Going Somewhere**

**What!? MadMoomin is UPLOADING?! Yeah, I really don't have a good enough excuse... You see, I'm suffering from Sequel Syndrome, which is a form of Writers Block. Sequel Syndrome is where you have written something, and no matter much you enjoyed writing it or how much people liked reading it, you sit down to start number two and you can't find a drop of inspiration in yourself. I know there are people waiting for the sequel of The Third Heir, but I'm really struggling to write it, so I hope you don't mind if I write this story first to get my self back in the mood? Anyway, I hope you enjoy.**

One way to describe London is with a single word: busy. The place never stops, and is unlike any other place in England. In the countryside, if you were to take a stroll at night, you would encounter a noise that was made of a lot of very quiet noises all piled on top of one another; the distant cry of cattle, the crunching of stones and twigs beneath your feet, the sigh that repeated itself every time you released your breath (which, on colder nights, with come with a perfect cloud of vapour which would disperse as quickly as it came). A small street would come with its own night time sounds; cats yelling at one another, doors slamming, cars sloshing through puddles on their way to nowhere in particular, but still peaceful enough so as not to wake the neighbors. Cities are loud, even at night they roar of traffic, angry businessman, gangs in the nearby alleyway, all adding up to terrifying experiences for those used to the former situations. However, London has a completely different effect, if you see someone in the streets of London, 9 times out of 10 they'll be going somewhere and are far too busy to talk thank you very much (not that you'll have the time to ask them, as you will also be one your way to somewhere or something and if you even stop to wonder where everyone else is going, you're going to miss the bus). That is the thing that makes London awe inspiring; it is not a 'waiting around for something to happen' city, it's a constant going places city. Whether you're a businessman on your way to an important meeting in Cambridge or a tourist getting lost on your way to the London Eye, you're always on your way somewhere. London, the city of going somewhere.

Now, make your way to the Thames (even the river is going some place or another), follow it East until you reach the very center of London, take a left turn and soon you'll come across the Scotland Yard Headquarters. Now, just a hop, skip and a bus ride away, we find an old, Victorian style building, just to the North of Westminster. Even in the black cloak of night, this place is full of young adults and older citizens going this place and that, all with different reasons and missions, as the day after tomorrow marks the beginning of a brand new year at Gressenheller University, and, for the young man in the silver car driving through the short, gold painted gates, the start of lifetime of adventure.

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><p>The engine rumbled to a stop. Roland Layton laid back in his seat and rested his hands behind his head, he gave a sigh of relief and glanced about the car park that was lit with street lamps. "Ah, Gressenheller, oh how I've missed you!" this caused a giggle from his wife Lucille, who sat beside him. "Some of the best years of my life were right here, back in my University days. You chose the right place, my boy, best archaeologists ever to walk the planet studied here, you'll fit right in!" He turned to face his son, who, to his dismay, hadn't stirred for the last couple of hours. Hershel Layton was perched on the edge of his seat, rubbing his knees nervously, his head was leaning on the window that he was staring blankly out of, his face the definition of despair. Roland frowned. "Hershel?" The boy jumped out of his trance and looked back at his father, his expression unchanged.<p>

"Hm?"

Roland smiled sadly at him. "What do you think? Do you like it?" Hershel turned back to the window, this time taking in the scenery.

"Urr, it's okay, it'll do..." Then, after seeing his father's worried expression, he hurriedly added "It's nice, I like it." The three sat in silence for another minute or so, when Lucille spoke.

"You don't have to stay, you know" she offered without turning. "Any time you want you can just… Come home." Hershel sighed and leaned over forwards until he faced the floor. He ran his hands through his afro hair and looked up, with such a pained face he looked close to tears.

"To what, Ma? Home to what? To Stansbury? Where Angela hates me and everyone else pitties me?" He sat upright and turned to the window, where the faint figure of young man was looking back at him, his mouth set in a straight line of determination. "No," he said softly, almost to himself. "I need to get away from it all, from everything, everyone…" He only just managed to stop himself adding 'including you'. Lucille bowed her head sorrowfully, and Roland took her hand.

"He's right, sweetheart" He assured his wife. "What Hershel needs right now is a fresh start, the best thing we can do now is take a step back." She nodded slowly, then her shoulders began to shake, and soft sobs could heard. A large lump of guilt settled in Hershel's stomach, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, she looked over to him smiling sadly at her, which she returned, and and took his hand in her free one.

"Oh, Hershel…" She sighed, for there was nothing else to say.

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><p>"Right! These are the last bags!" Roland gasped as he placed them on the floor, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve and grinned at his son. "Phew! Several floors up is not a good place to be on day 1!" Hershel returned the smile and dropped his own bags.<p>

"I quite like it" he said, looking around small room (which he didn't mind as he was lucky enough to get a room to himself). He made his way to the window , to find that he could see pretty much the whole of campus.

"Wait 'til you have a back like mine." Roland continued, stretching. "Then it won't be so much fun!" Hershel sat on his bed and looked around, it wasn't much yet: The bed and bedside table, with a sink at the other end of the room, and over that was a mirror. Not much, but he was already picturing how to make it more like home.

Roland sighed. "Well, we'd better be going" he glance at Hershel, "Do you want to come and wave us off?" Hershel rubbed his knees.

"I'll, stay here, if that's okay?" Roland smiled.

"Of course." Hershel followed the old man to the door. "Oh! Almost forgot!" He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out an envelope, he handed it to Hershel who looked at it in bewilderment. "I, got that out of the bank for you, so, you know, you can get something nice for your room." Hershel looked up in surprise, the Laytons had never been the kind parents to hand over money to their son, they spent money on Hershel's various trips and fencing clubs, but he had never got pocket money like all the other kids. So, being handed money he hadn't earned himself was completely new to him. He smiled gratefully.

"Um, thank you." He stammered. Roland nodded and gave a slight smile.

"Have a good one." He uttered, then made his way down the corridor. Hershel watched him go for a bit, then retreated to his room and locked the door. He stared at all the unpacking he had to look forward to and sighed. I'll do it later, he thought to himself, instead he went to the window and listened to the night sounds of London, the sounds of people going somewhere. He looked sadly down at his hands, that was something very one at Gressenheller had in common, they were all _going _to be archeologists, or _going_ to be a scientist or whatever else they were _going _to be. Who, and what, was Hershel Layton _going_ to be? Up until now, all that he had know was that he was _going_ to Gressenheller, because, well, because that's what he was _going_ to do anyway, even if Randall hadn't… Passed away. Hershel looked up, the stars were barely visible against the street lamps and car headlights. "_Hershel and I_ _are going to be archaeologists, and when it comes to archaeology, there's no place like Gressenheller University!" _ That was what he had said, or, at least, something along those lines. A tear ran ran down the young man's cheek, yes, that was what he was here to do, he was _going _to study at Gressenheller, he was _going_ to become an archaeologist, he was _going _to walk the path Randall had intended for them both…

… But he was _going _to have to walk it alone...

**Awwwww poor Hersh! Luckily, next chapter he'll meet someone...**


	2. Chapter 1: The Morning Routine

**Chapter 1: The Morning Routine**

**Hello! So, couple of things. 1. I know I said Hershel meets someone in this chapter, but it went on longer than I thought it would, so he'll meet this someone next chapter (comment if you think you know who it is! (a million hint coins if you get it right!)). And 2, just in case you didn't know, a 'fresher' is what us jolly old English say instead of a 'freshman' (I didn't know that until I checked it), right! Now the boring stuff is over, on with the chapter!**

The morning brought its own sounds, Hershel was used to waking up to the sounds of birds twittering and the clatter of carts on their way to the market, and the low mumble of early risers catching up on gossip. The sounds were not completely different here, but the soft tweeting was replaced with the shrill call of magpies and pigeons, the carts with cars, and the chatter with a roar of many conversations. A small mobile phone on the bedside table gave a flash of light, then began to make a beeping noise. Hershel's eyes flickered open, he sat up and yawned, stretching out his arms, then let them fall to his side. He took a look around the room, and at first wondered where he was, when the events of the previous day returned to him. He sighed, so, he had the whole day to himself? What to do? Make friends was probably the wisest thing, but, well, no one could blame him for not feeling like it. He threw off his covers and sat up, looked like he was gonna have to use to morning routine again. The morning routine had been Lucille's idea, she had come up with it because, after Randall's death, Hershel had gone into such a depression that he often refused to leave his bed. Lucille had made a list of things that Hershel had to get done in the morning, these were all things he would have done anyway, but having an official list made it easier to get it done. He had found that the routine usually lead to him doing other things that weren't necessarily on the list, like, washing the dishes, reading a book or engaging in conversation, which was probably the point. Hershel sighed, Lucille had most likely got the idea off one of those parenting blogs, well, he'd better get on with it.

Rise in the morning. Well, he'd already done that.

Answer any texts. He didn't get many these days, but this morning there was one under the name 'Pa' asking how he was. He replied with '_I'm fine, thanks.' _

Normal, everyday clothing. He dressed in his usual gear; comfortable brown shoes, grey jeans, shirt, orange unbuttoned waistcoat and blue tie.

Downstairs for breakfast. He wasn't sure where the nearest catering service was, so he feasted on the cherry pie his mother had made for him.

Answer any new texts. Hershel picked up his phone, there was a new text from Roland.

Pa

Good to hear! Listen, I forgot to tell you yesterday that you mother doesn't know about the money I gave you, so lets just keep it between you and me, okay?

Well, this was odd. Hershel had never known his parents to lie to one another, why did his father seem so nervous? He dismissed it and casually replied:

Yeah, sure, don't worry about it :)

Little walk. In Stansbury, he would usually take a stroll to the market and back, but he supposed it would do to have a look around the dormitory. This turned out to be more stressful than he hoped, as it was easy to get lost, and every time he heard footsteps or voices, he found himself hiding in a doorway until they disappeared. When he finally found his room he fell onto the bed, just one step left.

Looking in the mirror. This was apparently the most important step, he had to stand in front of the mirror and (as well as brushing his teeth, washing his face and combing his hair) he had to pick out all the things he liked about himself and take just a moment to appreciate them (yeah, definitely off some blog). As he pulled the comb through his cloud of hair, he looked himself in the eye and recited the lines he said everyday. "The things that like most about myself are as follows: I got good grades at school, meaning I must be clever." He put down the comb pick up a rather large pair of scissors (he hadn't been able to find his smaller ones) and snipped off all the bits of random hair sticking out of place. "I care about my friends and family very much, meaning I must be affectionate." He smiled to himself. "And I must be determined, because I can get through a whole tedious routine without cringing." This was what he had been doing every morning for the past few months, and it didn't feel too different here.

Rise in the morning.

Answer any texts.

Normal, everyday clothing.

Downstairs for breakfast.

Answer any new texts.

Little walk.

Looking in the mirror.

He stopped, and slowly put the scissors down. It was that word again, the one that kept reappearing, the one that, no matter what he did to distract himself, insisted on dancing around in the back of his head. He grasped the edges of the sink and squeezed his eyes shut, causing a flood of memories to come to life all at once; walking out of school with him, exploring the woods with him and, the most painful one, letting him slip through his fingers, literally, forever. He looked up, to see himself staring back, red and and panting. He'd always known Randall would always be bothering him, that he would always be lurking in the background, but he'd never expected THIS! He never wanted THIS! He began to sob, if he couldn't get through a morning routine without bursting into tears, how was he supposed to survive University? Let alone the rest of his life! He was now having to gasp for air, was this it? Was he doomed to live in guilt all his life? To hide in the shadow Randall was no longer casting? He managed to look back into the mirror, he wanted to turn away, to see anything but his own reflection, but he kept his gaze locked. A look of disgust settled on his face.

"Listen up, you" he growled through his teeth. "Every morning I tell you what I like about you, so today, I'm gonna tell everything I HATE about you!" He leaned forward, to make sure the mirror boy didn't miss a single word. "... You're a brat, you're a worthless brat who doesn't appreciate what he has until it's gone! You just follow the herd! You follow ridiculous orders given by people who don't have a clue what they're doing! You don't question, you do!" He coughed out more sobs, then spat out the inevitable conclusion. "... And THAT, THAT IS WHAT KILLED RANDALL! It wasn't Akbadain, it wasn't 'bad luck', it was your weak will! You couldn't say no! You couldn't say 'that's far enough'. You could, BUT YOU DIDN'T!" He gasped, running out of air, then leaned even closer, his forehead pressed lightly against the glass, and his breath made it foggy. "I… Hate… Hershel Layton" he whispered. "... And I NEVER want to see him again." He stood up and reached for the first thing he could find, the scissors. He looked at them for a moment, then raised them to his head. Lumps of hair fell around him as he destroyed what had been proudest element, his signature feature. Looking back at him was a distraught, puffy face, tear stained and red. This strange boy continued to sob, as through gritted teeth he uttered "Hershel Layton… Dies here."

**For me at least, this is where the Hershel we saw in Miracle Mask ended and the top hatted gent we all know and love began. Loved writing this chapter, please favourite the story if you enjoyed reading it just as much! And don't forget to put your guesses in the reviews! (I know I haven't been the best at surprises so far, but I think this'll be a good one!)**


	3. Chapter 2: Let Ludmilla Sort You Out

**Chapter 2: Let Ludmilla Sort You Out**

**Welcome back! Another chapter I loved writing sooooooo much! By the way, I think in the American Miracle Mask Ludmilla is called Madame Lapushka, so that's the person who appears in this chapter. Enjoy! **

**I do not own any of the characters in the chapter or Harriet's Hair Guide**** (I really need to put this at the beginning of all my chapters really... Lets just just pretend I remembered to! (basically please don't sue me)) **

Then he just fell onto the bed and lay there. He stayed there for quite some time, not moving, not crying, not even really thinking. When he finally lifted his head, he considered just staying there for the rest of the day, but thought better of it, besides, he was hungry. Hershel picked up his phone and turned it on.

1:32 pm

Well, that had been a perfectly lovely waste of his first morning at university. He reluctantly got up, the light coming in from the window was bouncing off the cream walls, making them shine. He should probably spend the rest of the day preparing for the week ahead of him, he thought, rubbing his eyes as though waking up for the second time that day. Looking around the room, he realised there were still lumps of hair lying on the floor, better clean that up for starters. He didn't have a dust pan and brush on him, so he started picking it up with his hands. As he did this, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, but rather than having another break down, he cursed under his breath and ran to the glass to get a closer look. Well, he'd certainly been very thorough when destroying his afro, he looked like someone had tried to trim a hedge blindfolded! He raised his hands to the mess, the worst bit was that it was all uneven, some parts were close to their original position, others were so short he had been lucky not to catch his scalp. He stared helplessly at the disaster on his head, he couldn't go into lessons like THIS, first impressions were everything! He'd be a laughing stock before he'd even started! Hershel racked his brains for a solution, ah ha! Now he remembered that, on the drive over, he had seen a street full of shops, quite close to where he was now. There might be a barbers among them, the only problem now was getting there without the dangers of bumping into any future classmates. He rushed to wardrobe in the corner and had a rummage around. The only thing he could find that would cover his head was a hooded raincoat, there wasn't the slightest sign of rain, but it would do perfectly. Now all he needed was the money to pay for it, he found the envelope his father gave him and opened it.

The contents shocked him, he'd only expected to find about £40 or so, but taking one look at the pile of £10 and £20 notes immediately told him that there must be a couple of hundred! No wonder Roland had been so nervous! He felt… bad, for some reason, as if he'd stolen it and should take it back right now. He sighed, _it feels wrong, but one way or another, I need a haircut, _so he took £30 (it was out of habit that he always took about twice the amount of money he needed to the shops), shoved it in his pocket and made his way out of the room.

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><p>As he walked down the high street, he began to get paranoid thoughts; what if people gave him weird looks for his raincoat? What it a sudden gust of wind blew off the hood? What if the barber was a student? He tried to push these scenarios out of his mind, but kept the hood tightly pulled down over his head.<p>

Hershel studied all the signs he passed.

"20% off all vegetables!"

"Washing up liquid for £1.20!"

"15% off all hats!"

It was at this offer he looked up, above him was a large sign, on which was written in a large, purple, fancy font "Ludmilla's" and under that in smaller writing "Clothes Store and Unisex Haircuts". He sighed with relief, this would do.

When he opened the door, a small bell chimed, making him think of the grocery store back in Stansbury. "Thank you for dropping by! And don't forget to come back soon!"

"Thanks Ludmilla!" a young woman replied over her shoulder, she was carrying a few bags and heading for the door, which Hershel instinctively held open for her. She gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks" she said quickly, the left.

"Can I help you, dear?" Hershel jumped and turned. Ludmilla was short woman with light blonde hair in a bun, she was also wearing a blue dress and a friendly smile.

"Umm, ur, yeah" he stammered nervously. "I, umm, came for a haircut."

"Well, you came to the right place, young man!" She said excitedly. She stepped out from behind the counter and showed him to a chair in front of a mirror (which, much to his delight, was not right next to shop window, he could never stand that at his old barbers as it was, but it was a huge relief considering the circumstances). He sat down and Ludmilla stood behind him, hands on hips. "If you'd like to take your coat off for me, dear" she said, once again in a friendly tone. Hershel bit his lip, then removed his hood. He had expected her to giggle or laugh, or at the very least look surprised, but instead she just smiled at his reflection, as if it were normal to walk into a hairdressers looking like your head had been attacked by wild animals. "Alright, then, what would you like me to do today?"

"Umm…" he hesitated, he had been so focused on getting a haircut that he, well, didn't know what haircut he wanted. "I'm… Not sure." Again, Ludmilla surprised him, instead of an impatient frown she smiled excitedly.

"Well, at least that gives me a chance to use Harriet's hair guide!"

"Harriet's what?" But when he turned around, Ludmilla had already scuttled over to the checkout and was opening a drawer. She hurried back over with a green piece of paper in her hands.

"Hmm. Now tell me, sugar, when do you want your style to REALLY come alive?"

"What?" But Ludmilla just waved him off.

"I don't get it either, just answer question" she said merrily.

"Umm, every day, I guess."

"Good good, now, do you like the sun? How does it make you feel?"

"Urr, warm." Hershel replied, hesitantly, feeling pretty sure that was the the sun's main purpose.

"Very well! Last one now! If you were rushing to the salon and someone were to call to you, what would you do?"

"Well, stop and say hello to them, I suppose."

"Brilliant! I have just your style in mind, now!" She placed the paper on the counter and picked up some scissors. Ludmilla cut away at his hair, chattering on about great deals on the high street and recent news and small talk in general, while sometimes making random, off topic remarks such as "I don't think I've seen you around here before, it must be your first year here!" and "You know, I pick out outfits for my customers as part of my job, perhaps you'd like one?" Most of this washed over Hershels head, and as she didn't seem to expect him to reply, it was kind of comforting. After a few minutes, She stood back and squinted at him, her face twisted as if she were making a decision, then she smiled at him again. "Well, good old Harriet was right, that style suits you perfectly!" Hershel turned to the mirror, it was certainly very short, short enough that each individual hair stuck up rather than flopping anywhere, but at least it didn't look _terrible_, he would just have to get use to it. "Are you _sure_ you don't want an outfit?" Ludmilla tried.

"Urr, no thank you, madam, I'm-"

"Madam?" This was the only time Ludmilla had look at all shocked, and Hershel was wondering what he had said wrong, when she gave a massive grin. "Oh! A gentleman! I haven't had a gentleman in here for years!" She shook her head "No, no, it's too much! I can't have a gentleman walking around here without the appropriate outfit! You simply must let me let me find you something!"

"Umm…" Hershel hesitated, unsure of how to get himself out of this, when Ludmilla clasped her hands together.

"Oh, come on! Please! Tell you what! Just this once I'll do it free of charge, apart from anything you my buy in the process, but I'll do my best to use what you've already got!" Hershel sighed, Ludmilla had to be about twice his age, yet she was so excitable that he felt to awkward to say no.

"... Alright then, just this once." Ludmilla didn't need to be told twice, she jogged over to the checkout and picked up a large book, then beckoned him over to a full length mirror. When Hershel got there she was already flipping through the book, which he could now see was titled 'Laws of the Looks'.

"Now, lets see… G, g, g, g, gentleman!" She practically squealed when she found what she was looking for. "Okay, so, it says here 'If you want to get the look of a true English gentleman, but want to avoid bowler hats and umbrellas, all you need to do it follow these simple rules. 1. A gentleman must be smart.'" She put the book down and looked over to Hershel, her chin in her hand and a frown of concentration on her face, then she gave a 'ah ha!', walked over and buttoned up his waistcoat. "See! You look better already!" She hurried back over to her book. "Sometimes it's the little things that make all the difference! Now, what else… '2. A gentleman must have that touch of something a bit fancy'... Hmm." She resumed her thinking position, then wandered over to the shelf of accessories. After fiddling around for a moment she came back with a white scarf. She took his blue tie off and tried placing the scarf in several positions, until she found on that satisfied her. "Lovely! Now, one more thing… '3. Last but not least, a gentleman must ALWAYS wear a hat!'" Ludmilla disappeared behind a rack of shirts, then gave a triumphant gasp. She came back and, before he could see what she was holding, pulled something down on Hershel's head, then took a step back and squinted again, studying him for anything that needed improving, then she beamed at him. "I knew it! I'll bet this is my best work yet!" She nodded to the mirror behind him, which he turned to. His new image stunned him, it was a good look, he'd admit, but, he looked so much… older, late twenties at least. The hat he was wearing was an orange flat cap, almost the same shade as his waistcoat. He looked so… Different, which was good, wasn't it? He'd wanted to see the back of old Hershel, so why not welcome this new one? "Well? What do you think?" asked Ludmilla, curiously.

"It's… Excellent…" He gave a faint smile to his reflection, the same one that only a few hours ago he was shouting abuse at. He held the brim of the cap and tipped it a little, perhaps there was no harm in New Hershel being a gentleman.

"Goodbye, dear! Hope to see you back soon!"

"Thank you!" Hershel left Ludmilla's and started back up the high street, with his raincoat and old tie under his arm, feeling that he had had a successful shopping trip for under £30, plus feeling a lot happier (maybe there was something to be said for getting out of doors when you're feeling down). He looked back at the store he had just left, perhaps he would get his clothes from there in future as well, it was a very good service. He continued on wards, when he started to feel hungry again, it was about three o'clock and he hadn't had lunch yet, but remembered a charming little cafe he had passed earlier. A few minutes later, he was enjoying a melted cheese and bacon filled croissant with a cup of tea, reading the paper. He put it down and looked out of the window at the busy street, so, it wasn't a bad first day at all, he thought to himself, when a thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Now he had to survive his first day of lessons.

**Thank you for reading! I hoped you liked Ludmilla's appearance! Please leave your thoughts in the reviews, don't forget to follow the story for 1000 hint coins and favourite it for 10000! Thank you again and I'll see you next time!(P.s. Who knows what Harriet the Hairdresser is from?)  
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	4. Chapter 3: A Pair-less Predicament

**Chapter 3: A Pair-less Predicament**

**Welcome back! Sorry this is late, I've had a busy few days, but from now on I will try to upload a chapter every weekend (please hold me to that). Enjoy the chapter!**

Hershel had to dodge people as they busily tried to get to their first lessons down the narrow corridor. He had had mixed feelings about his archaeology lessons, and finding out it was his _very first _subject of the day was not what he wanted to hear. He found a door with the number '28' written on the front, these numbers corresponded with the ones on his time table, so he pushed the door open and entered. On the other side was a small lecture theatre, where the rows of seats sloped downwards towards a desk and blackboard at the front. There were already a few students there, chatting and catching up with the friends they knew already from school or work. Hershel checked his watch, it was about five minutes before the lesson started, but the teacher was already there, sat behind the desk, with a short dark gray beard and mustache. Hershel found a seat at the very back of the lecture room (very purposely away from everyone else) and pulled out his books.

A little while later, the room was full of noisy teacher stood up and walked around to the front of his desk, Hershel could now see that he was rather short, and was wearing a brown coat. "Now, now, settle down please" he said sternly, but few heard him and they continued their chatter. The teacher tried again, but when that didn't work… "QUIET!" The room became silent at once, Hershel was quite taken aback by how loud a voice the small man had. The teacher glanced about the room in annoyance, then smiled. "There, much better." He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. "Right, good morning everyone, my name is Dr. Schrader, I am one of your two archaeology teachers, the other is Mr. Delmona, and you are to respect him a you will respect me." By this, Hershel guessed that Mr. Delmona was slightly less strong willed than Dr. Schrader. "Now, let's begin."

The Lecture went quite well to start with, Hershel got plenty of notes down and understood the topic quite well. The only problem he was having, which was the one he'd been fearing, was that it all felt so...familiar. So familiar that, every time he looked up, he expected to see his sixth-form archeology teacher Mr Collins drawing on the blackboard, and every time Schrader finished a sentence, Hershel felt the absence of a hand shooting up beside him and asking a ton of questions. Perhaps it wasn't a bad thing there was no Randall to constantly interrupt the lecture, the thought, then mentally scolded himself. How could he dare even think like that? He could be a 'New Hershel' all he liked, but he would never himself forget the past, forget what he'd done.

About halfway through the lecture, after finishing his drawing of the Hieroglyphic alphabet, Dr. Schrader turned around to face the class. "Right, so, most of your other teachers are going to just drone on at you for hours, but I find that a bit boring." He smiled mischievously at them. "So, every so often, I'm going to throw a little challenge at you." He picked up a pile of laminated sheets. "This one will be in the form of a puzzle." Hershel gave a groan, just when he thought he had escaped from constant puzzles, puzzles, puzzles! But the worst was yet to come.. "And I'd like you all to work in pairs." Pairs? Why pairs? Puzzles could be done fine individually! And, well, he didn't particularly want to have to communicate with anyone. But people were already forming their pairs, perhap there would be an odd number of people and he could just do it on his own…

"Oh, and if you can't find a partner, just make a three with another pair."

Well, that was just great, wasn't it.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a young man, probably the same age as him, with dark blonde hair, wearing a white shirt and dark blue tank top. He was sat in the front row and was looking around nervously. After a moment, he spotted Hershel. The two locked their gaze for a few seconds, as if asking the question they felt too awkward to say out loud. Hershel smiled at him and gave a small nod, and instantly the man picked up his things and made his way towards him. His 'partner' sat beside him and smiled shyly. "Hi" he said quietly, "... You don't mind… umm.." Hershel smiled back at him.

"Not at all." He replied, causing a sigh of relief from the young man.

Dr. Schrader was handing out the sheets face down. "Don't turn them over yet" he repeated everytime he placed one on the desk in front of a pair. When he had finished, he returned to the front of the room and sat back at the desk, facing the class. "Right! You may begin now, let me know when you are finished." Hershel turned over the page and began to read the problem.

"_You are sat at a table when your friend comes and sits opposite. They give you the piece of paper shown below. "It shouldn't take you long to work out, it's easy!" They tell you. Work out the answer."_

"Answer?" Said his puzzle buddie in bewilderment. "But there isn't a question!" Hershel saw that he was right, paper shown on the sheet was just covered in random marks.

"Umm…" He cupped his chin in his hand and thought. _Come on! All those years of being forced to solve puzzles must add up to something! _He looked back at the text. "_It shouldn't take you long to work out, it's easy!"_ That sentence reminded him of something else…

"_Still struggling? But this is the simplest math problem ever!" _Ah ha! Now Hershel remembered a puzzle Daston had given him a while back, where once he turned it upside down, it all made sense! "I've got it!" He exclaimed, the other man jump.

"You have?" He asked, shocked. "But… How?"

"Say I am the friend who gave you the puzzle" said Hershel, picking up the sheet and holding it in between them, so that it was was upside down from his point of view, but the right way up for the young man. "From where you're looking at it, the paper makes no sense, but for me-"

"Oh! I get it!" He exclaimed, taking the sheet from Hershel and turning it upside down. "Now, let's see…" He peered closely at the page. "... Hmm… It looks like, like some of the marks make letters!"

"Really?" Hershel leaned forward inquisitively. "What… Letter… Is… The… Owl?" He frowned, unsure what this meant, yet his friend grinned.

"M" Hershel looked at him in astonishment, but the young man nodded to the blackboard, where the Hieroglyphic alphabet was written down. Among all the letters and pictures was a rough drawing of an owl-like bird, and written next to that, M.

"Ah ha! I see!" Said Hershel excitedly. He raised his hand to show they had completed the task. Dr. Schrader looked up almost instantly.

"Oh? Finished already, are we? Alright everyone, stop what you're doing and listen to this young gentleman tell us how it's done."

What?

There were several annoyed groans from those who were close to working out the answer, then all eyes turned to him. Hershel mouth hung open in bewilderment, this wasn't part of the deal! He looked around nervously, then turned to his partner, who looked even more scared than he felt. _Well, I might as well then. _He stood up and cleared his throat, then proceeded to explain

the solution as best as he could. When he had finished, he noticed the students around him were whispering… _Oh no nonononononnonono._

"Excellent! That was a tough one." Schrader nodded to the pair, then stood and began to collect in the sheets. Hershel sat down and glanced around… Some people were looking at him, but not in the judging, terrifying manner he had feared, but with impressed nods and friendly thumbs-ups. "That was very impressive, you two." Hershel awoke from his daydream as Schrader spoke to him. "What were your names?"

"Triton," said the man sat beside him, proudly. "Clark Triton."

"And you?"

"Umm, Hershel Layton, sir."

"Layton?" Schrader gave him an inquisitive look, then shook himself and picked up their sheet.

Hershel frowned. "Is there… something wrong, sir?"

"No no, nothing wrong," the teacher assured him. "I just, I knew a Layton awhile back, but I doubt you relate to him."

Hershel raised an eyebrow. "Well, my father studied here as an archaeologist, if that's relevant."

Schrader stopped, then looked back at him. "Roland, by any chance?"

"... Yeah."

"Oh," the old man exclaimed, surprised. "Well, in that case, I knew your father." He gave Hershel a friendly smile. "You look nothing like him."

"Urr…" Hershel hesitated, unsure how to react. "... Thank you?"

Schrader laughed. "Well, at least that will explain your talent with puzzles."

Hershel chuckled in reply. "Yep, definitely my father we're talking about."

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><p>Clark didn't return to his original seat, and sat next to Hershel for the rest of the lesson. When it was time to go, Hershel packed up his things and headed for his next class. As he was making his way down the corridor, he heard footsteps follow him, until they were walking along side his own. "Hershel, wasn't it?"<p>

"Yeah, and you're… Clark?"

"That's right…" Clark smiled sheepishly. "Umm, that was some good puzzle skills back there."

"Thanks." Hershel returned. "You too."

Clark smiled awkwardly. "Well, once you'd work out the first part, the rest wasn't that hard, was it?"

Hershel chuckled reassuringly. "Come now, few people would have even considered that he would have left half the puzzle in the room." Clark just nodded at this, then checked his watch.

"Well, I'd better get going," he began to jog off in a different direction, and waved back at Hershel. "See you around!" Then he was gone. Hershel stood looking after him for a moment, the carried on walking, smiling to himself. _First lesson and you already have a friend, not bad, _he thought to himself. _Better that you were expecting, I suppose._

**Hope you liked it! Just so you know, I have literally no idea what uni is like, so sorry if these lesson scenes are not very realistic, but I'll only have to do a few more and then I shouldn't need to add them into the story so much. Please review, follow and favourite and I'll see you next time! Goodbye! **


	5. Chapter 4: Marvels in Mechanics

**Chapter 4: Marvels in Mechanics**

**Hi guys! Hope you're enjoying to story so far, but I'm not sure this chapter is as good as the others, but still, enjoy!**

Next lesson: Mechanics. Back is Stansbury, people only knew Hershel as an archaeologist (or Randall's right-hand man), but the boy had always been fascinated and talented in mechanics, and had decided to take a course in it. After some wandering the corridors, he found his classroom, which turned out to look identical to his archaeology room, and had a quick look around for a good seat. He was torn between playing it safe and sitting alone or, as proved useful last lesson, try to make friends. He glanced about him, and found that he could already pick out groups: populars, cool geeks, nerds etcetera. At school he had spent a lot of time thinking about the ways people put themselves into these categories, and a lot more time wondering which one he could fit in to. He had just been Randall's best friend, and Randall was what he called a 'drifter'; one week he'd be hanging out with the populars, the next he would have had an argument with one of them and moved on to the geeks, and where Randall went, Hershel followed. This had worked fine for him, before he moved to Stansbury, he had to make do with the nerds because he felt like he wasn't worthy of anything higher. He shook the thoughts away, he was in university now, those groups probably didn't apply anymore. _But what if they do? What if it's school before Stansbury all over again? I'm NOT going back into the nerds, and even the geeks is out of my league! _He sighed to himself sadly, _perhaps I'm just better off alo- AHH! _

Hershel flew forward as someone ran full pelt into the back of him_. _He held his hands out to catch himself, but they landed on the edge of a step and slipped off, causing him to fall flat on his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. A commotion started up around him. "What happened?" "Are you alright?" "Hey! Watch where you're going!" A pair of hands pulled Hershel onto his feet.

"Oh, goodness! Are you ok? I am so sorry!" Hershel straightened his cap and looked up at the owner of the apology. He was about the same height as Hershel, with long, dark brown hair that went past his shoulders, a plump, pointed mustache and a short, square beard. His nose was long and sharp, and he had small, black eyes. He must have been a good couple of years older than Hershel and was giving him a concerned frown.

"That's… Fine." Hershel replied, irritated and through gritted teeth, dusting off his sleeves. He pick up his books and found a seat at the back of the room, alone.

"I am really, very sorry about that" said the man who had just knocked him over, he dropped his books on the table and sat next to him. Hershel nearly groaned, _really? _"I was running late, literally." The man chuckled at his own joke. "I didn't see you, and, if there's any thing I can-"

"No, no, really, that's fine." Hershel forced a smile. "Um, I'm Hershel Layton."

The man beamed and held out a hand, which Hershel reluctantly took. "Paul Donovan, pleased to meet you, Layton!"

"Urr, just Hershel is fi-" Hershel began, then realised Paul wasn't looking at him anymore, but just passed him with a wistful smile. Hershel turned around, but saw nothing extraordinary, only that other guys were also behavinging in a similar manner, nudging their friends and nodding in the direction of… A girl. Paul gave a sigh.

"That's Claire Foley," said Paul, fascinated. "She was 3 years below me at school, and… Well…" He blushed. Hershel turned back to the girl, who had just sat down. He didn't really see what all the fuss was about, she was pretty, yes, with light brown hair that flowed in waves down over her shoulders, but nothing to get too excited about.

"Good morning everyone." Began the teacher, in an extremely slow and tedious voice. Hershel turned his attention from the girl onto the ancient man at the front. "Welcome to Gressenheller."

* * *

><p>"I love mechanics!" Paul exclaimed as they packed away their books.<p>

"I did." Hershel mumbled, trying as fast as he could to get as far away from the room as possible. He never thought he'd see the day some managed to make engineering boring, now he was wondering how he was going to survive the course. He joined the flood of students escaping the lecture theater, Paul yattering the whole way out. When he had finally reached the hallway, he realised Paul was no longer walking with him, he turn to see that Paul had stopped in his tracks, and was staring in shock at something. Hershel followed his gaze, _oh, Claire again. _Closer up, she was even prettier than he had assumed when he had seen her from a distance. She had round glasses and large eyes, her hair had a hint of ginger to it, and she had a very beautiful nose. _Really? Of all things you like her nose? _She was with a rather tall young man with grey, curly hair, who was teasing her and making her giggle. Hershel glanced over at Paul, whose face was the very definition of fury. His hands had become tight fists and his teeth were clenched, was he really getting so worked up and jealous over this? He started to stamp over to the two, when Hershel grabbed him by the shoulder. "I- I wouldn't." He warned. "Might not make the greatest of impressions." Paul looked back at him in surprise, then took a breath.

"... Yeah, sorry about that," he turned and began to walk off in the other direction, quite red with embarrassment. "Th-thanks for stopping me."

"Don't worry about it." Hershel nodded, then started off the other way. He wasn't sure he wanted to spend that much time around Paul, so far, he seemed like a bit of a lunatic.

* * *

><p>"Hey son! How was your first day!" Roland's cheery voice called down the phone. When Hershel had got back to his room he discovered that his father had tried to contact him and instantly called him back.<p>

"Great, thanks Pa," he replied nervously.

"Excellent! Make any friends?"

"Yeah, one or two" Hershel assured him, wondering if Paul counted.

"Good man! So, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, look, Pa" he wanted to get this matter out of the way before anything else. "About that money you gave me…" There was a bit of a pause, when Roland replied.

"Spend it! Treat yourself! It's yours!" He said merrily, yet quietly and his voice was slightly shaky.

"I know, it's just, I'm wondering if you meant to give me so much."

"Of course! Besides, after seeing that room of yours, I'm wondering if it's enough!"

"Pa," Hershel shortly. "You don't need it, do you?"

"Look, Hershel, if we were in any money trouble at all, I wouldn't have given it to you."

"That's not what what I meant, I-" he stopped, unsure have to, or whether he wanted to, carry this on. "... Just, nevermind."

"Good lad." Roland changed the subject quickly. "So, how were your lessons?"

"They were alright" Hershel replied, still concerned about the money, then. "Oh, that reminds me, I think my archaeology teacher used to know you." He could almost see Roland raise and eyebrow.

"Really? What's the name?"

"Does Schrader ring any bells?" Another pause, followed by a jolly laugh.

"It certainly does!" Roland exclaimed. "You mean Andrew? Andrew is a teacher?!" Then he proceeded to tell Hershel about all the artifacts Schrader had found and awards he had won. He sat and listened to his father with wonder, was this celebrity of the archaeology world really his teacher? "You're in luck, my boy! With that man teaching you, there's no way you'll fail any exams!"

"So, did you meet him at university?" Hershel asked, interrupting the ongoing speech.

"Oh, no! At a dig site!" Then began to ramble on about all the things they found and the times they had and blah blah blah… "Anyway, that's enough from me, I'd better go, I'll see you later."

"Bye Pa, see you soon." Then he hung up and placed the phone on the table. He lay back on his bed and put his hands behind his head. _Not a bad day_, he thought, _scary, but not bad at all._

**Hope you liked the chapter! Please review as it would be greatly appreciated and I'll see you next weekend, goodbye! **


	6. Chapter 5: Chemistry in chemistry

**Soooooo... I did plan to spend my whole holiday writing, but you can see how well that worked out. Sorry this is a bit short, but just a few more chapters and the REAL drama starts! Plus I've finally worked out how to make those grey line things so you'll be seeing more of those! Enjoy! **

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Chemistry in Chemistry <strong>

And lastly, Chemistry. That's right, the silent, smart, sensitive young gentleman also had a secret love for chemistry (Roland had once refused to speak to Hershel for a day as a result of the boy announcing that he prefered the subject to archaeology). It was the Wednesday of Hershel first week, and chemistry was the last lesson he hadn't been to yet, meaning the last lesson where he didn't know what to expect.

Hershel's classroom was in the basement (as well as most of the science labs). When he entered the room the first thing he registered was the it was a bit chilly, and his quick thinking brain followed that up with a _and this is also my chemistry room in the winter, perfect. _He found himself a seat near the middle of the room on a high wooden stool at a typical science lab table (which was also cold to touch).

"Good morning all." Hershel awoke from the trance he had fallen into while fiddling with his pen. He looked up to the owner of the voice, his teacher was a short, Japanese woman (although her English and her accent were both perfect) with long black hair in a plat, and pair of square shaped glasses sitting on her nose. She smiled sweetly at the students, and glanced at a clipboard that was rested on her hip. "Right, so, for those of you who don't know, I'm Mrs Smith, and I'll be your chemistry teacher for the year." She placed the clipboard on the desk and folded her arms, glancing about the room. "... Oh come on! What are all the long faces for?" She threw her arms into the air in a dramatic manner. "You're back at Gressenheller! Some of you are having a whole new experience! We're going to do some learning!" A small 'yay' came from somewhere within the crowd of students, causing a wave of giggles to come over them. Mrs Smith smirked "Yes, yes, alright, now settle please." She picked up the clipboard again and studied it. "Right" she addressed the class. "From last year's experience, I have discovered that some combinations of students" at this some of the older looking turn to a pair of sheepish looking boy's, one of which had made the sarcastic joke. "... Can have some devastating, and sometimes explosive, results in practicals." She sighed and turned to the blackboard, writing names alongside one another. "So this year, I am assigning you all a chemistry bubby." Groans chorused through the room, echoing off the stone walls. Without turning, Mrs Smith continued. "This will be your partner for all of your practicals and assignments, and as chemistry buddies, it's your job to look after each other." Hershel glanced about the room, there were a couple of people he'd spoken to once or twice there, but no proper friends, come to think of it, Clark was probably his only 'proper' friend so far. People were already beginning to form into their pairs, and once again Hershel felt that panic about who he was to sit with, but at least this time it was being chosen for him. Soon, Mrs Smith had added ' ' to her list. Hershel starred in anticipation, waiting to see who he would be paired with…

'C…. F… o… l...e...y.'

Foley… That name seemed familiar…

"Who's ' '?" Hershel turned, sat a couple of rows behind him was the girl Paul had pointed out the other day, Claire. She had been talking the girl sat next to her, who was dark haired and dressed in purple, but when she saw Hershel turn towards them, she shot him a friendly smile. "Is that you?" the sound of her voice make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in a strangely pleasant way. He glanced about himself, then faced her again, pointing questioningly at himself. Claire giggled. "Yes, you!" she smiled again. "Are you Mr Layton?" Hershel nodded slowly, as if unsure. What was it about this girl that was making him so… Flustered? He didn't even know her, and it wasn't as if she looked particularly special, for instance, she wasn't beautiful like Angela, but the more he saw of Claire Foley, the more he wanted to.

Claire hugged her friend, then picked up her things and sat next to Hershel, beaming at him. "Hi, I'm Claire Foley, what's your name?"

"Urm, Hershel." He replied, looking away before she realised he was blushing.

"Well, pleased to meet you, Hershel Layton." She held out her hand, which Hershel hesitantly reached for (because he'd just realised his hands were a bit sweaty). When he took her hand, a chill ran through his whole body, then was flooded warmth. He smiled awkwardly at her, before realising how much of a idiot he must have looked. _What's wrong with me? Am I really falling for this girl?_

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><p><strong>Hope that<strong>**bit at the end**** wasn't to cheesy, please review as it is greatly appreciated and I'll see you next week! Bye-bye! **


	7. Chapter 6: Decorating the Dorm

**Sorry I didn't upload last week! I should be able to second chapter done today, but we'll see how it goes, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: Decorating the Dorm<strong>

Tap-tap, tap-tap-tap, tap, tap-tap… Hershel couldn't bring himself to say so, but Clark tapping his pen on the table with such an irregular beat was driving him to the edge of insanity. His friend was staring intently at the clock, which stated that it was only a matter of seconds before their first weekend at Gressenheller.

"... And that must bring this lesson to an end, please bring your textbooks to the front and I hope you have a productive and restful weekend." However, most of Dean Delmona's sentence was drowned out by the rustling of books and relieved sighs, shortly followed by comfortable chatter. Hershel and Clark had recently moved to the front row of the classroom, and Clark practically leapt over the desk to return their book. Although he thought Clark was getting a little over the top, Hershel knew he had reason to be excited, Clark had had this weekend planned out for a few days now: He was going to spend the rest of that Friday studying with Hershel, most of Saturday decorating his room and exploring the area, then spending the evening at the pub with some friends (an invitation Hershel had turned down due to his lack of experience with alcohol). Then Sunday was to be devoted to more studying and just plain mooching about. Hershel wondered if all his weekends were planned this way, or if the excitement of university had had this effect on him. Clark whizzed back to his side and began to pack up his things, yattering in such excitement Hershel could barely workout what he was saying.

"Ah! Clark, Hershel!" Mr. Delmona called to them, waddling over. Unlike Dr. Schrader, who always addressed the two as Triton and Layton, Dean Delmona always used his students first names. Although he preferred this friendly approach, Delmona was not the best at remembering names, but Clark and Hershel were about to find out why theirs had made such an impression.

"Mr. Delmona." Hershel smiled to him and tipped his hat (which was becoming a bit of a habit), the room was half empty now, and Dean Delmona was watching as the others left, as if he were about to discuss some great secret. "... Is, is everything alright?" Hershel inquired, thoughtfully. The teacher gave a jolly laugh.

"Of course! Of course, its just, well…" Once again he checked for listeners. "You see, Andrew told me of your talent with puzzles."

"Andrew?" Clark was confused for a moment, then "... Oh! Dr. Schrader!"

"Indead. Well, you see, I have a bit of a problem. I have a little girl at home, who is so proud to have a professor as a father, and often boasts at school about how intelligent her dear old man must be…" He coughed awkwardly. "However… She sometimes feels the need to… test… this intelligence." He reached into his bag, and pulled out a small piece of card. "She gave me this today, and for the life of me I cannot solve the thing! Andrew usually helps me with these puzzles, but he's busy today, and I can't bear to pick my girl up from school without the answer she craves." He pushed the card in their direction. "so if you wouldn't mind, could you take a quick look at it?" A sideways glance at Clark told Hershel that his friend minded very much, but, well, he'd been brought up to help those in need…

"... All right, sir, we'll take a look."

* * *

><p>"Well, that wasn't that bad." Hershel remarked when they had finally left the lecture theatre. There were only a few people left lingering around in the hallways, indicating they had been held back some time.<p>

"Hmm..." Was Clark's only reply. He was hanging his head in annoyance.

"Is… something the matter?" Hershel asked, concerned.

"Oh, nothing, it's just…" He grinned to himself and shook his head. "You would never have guessed that Dr. Schrader could be so… Sneaky!"

"Pardon?"

"Well, think about!" Clark was about to start a full on rant. "He must have been sick to death with having to solve the poor old man's puzzles! Then the moment some half decent puzzle solvers show up, he sets Delmona onto us! Now we're stuck with him!" Hershel couldn't help but chuckle at this dramatic display. Clark paused, then laughed with him in spite of himself. Although Clark was an excellent friend, scenarios like this made Hershel happy, yet uncomfortable, as if this all felt far too… familiar. "Anyway," Clark continued. "Looks like we're stuck with him now, I just hope that daughter of his appreciates this!"

"Honestly" Hershel mumbled. "I think he appreciates it a whole lot more than his daughter does, and besides," he faced Clark once more. "I dare say he'll forget about us soon."

...Little did he know then that, in twenty years time, he would still be solving puzzles for Dean Delmona...

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><p>After climbing what felt like at least the twentieth set of stairs, they finally reached Hershel's door. "You are seriously lucky to have your own room!" said Clark for the seventh time as Hershel searched his pockets for the keys. "I mean, I have to share with three other guys, and none of them seem to know how the shower works"" Hershel laughed.<p>

"Well, my room is nothing special," he said modestly.

"Oh, come on!" Clark exclaimed as Hershel opened the door. "I'm sure it's really-..." His sentence was cut off upon entering the room. The little light that came through the window was dull, making the little furniture there was look dark and almost dusty, which, overall, wasn't a flattering effect. "... Urmm… Hrmm… It's…" Clark tried to say something nice, then gave up . "... To be honest, it looks like an abandoned motel room."

"Well, I have only been here a week." Hershel returned, a little hurt.

"Yes, but…" He switched on the light, which made next to no difference. "Didn't you bring anything from home? Like, pictures or ornaments?" Hershel shook his head. He had, in fact, _packed_ some personal belonging, but had got rid of them as soon as he could. Lucille had insisted that he took some of his things to Gressenheller, but Hershel had stressed that if he wanted to start fresh, bringing his old things along the way wouldn't do. He had brought as little as possible, making the excuse that he wanted his room to look just like it always had on his visits home. When Roland and Lucille had left, he took it all to the dump.

Clark threw his bag and books onto the bed, then jumped on himself. "You know what?" He said decidedly, steadying himself on the bouncing mattress. "Forget studying, we're gonna give this place a 'makeover', as a girl would say."

"Hmm?"

Clark threw his arms up. "Revision is depressing enough without having to do it in this dismal cupboard of a room, no offence." Hershel made a gesture to say none was taken. "But anyway, on my way to classes I pass by this place where leaving students sell the furniture they can't take with them for really low prices. Sure, most of it is pretty worn, but still in one piece." He looked over at the uncertain Hershel. "You have money, right?"

".. Yes."

"Saving up for anything?"

"Nope."

"Any reason not to spend it?"

"No."

"Then we're settled!" Clark jumped back up and headed back through the door. Hershel watched him for a minute, bemused. "You'll thank me, I promise." Clark called to him. Sighing, Hershel threw his own bags to the bed, found the envelope Roland had given him and followed his friend, locking the door behind him.

* * *

><p>The trip turned out to be very successful. They found the place Clark had mentioned where the first thing that caught their interest was a wooden desk. It was true that Hershel need a desk, and this one looked quite fancy other than a few dents here and there. The only problem was that the owner was charging £80 for it, which was a bit more than Hershel was willing to spend. Clark was having a good haggle over the thing when he noticed Hershel was no longer listening to his efforts, but looking else where. After a moment Clark realised it was a small, round table with a china tea set arranged on it that had captured Hershel's gaze. He gave the man a nudge with is elbow, awakening him from his daydreaming. "You carry on looking around," he said with a smile. "I'll get this for the lowest price I can."<p>

"Which will be £70 and no less, Mr Triton." The owner interrupted crossly.

"Really? Well, you see, I still haven't gotten to the fact that there's a draw missing."

"There is not!"

"Oh? Then will you please explain these rails to me?"

Hershel drifted towards the table he'd spotted. The owner looked tired and hopeless, as if he'd been there weeks, but when he saw Hershel approaching his face lightened, like a tied up dog upon seeing a bone. Hershel nodded politely and examined the table; it looked like it was in very good shape, quite pretty actually, but the excellent condition made Hershel fear the price. "H- how much is this, sir?" He asked nervously, he could the owner was trying to suppress his excitement.

"£25"

"W-what?" Hershel was sure he'd heard incorrectly. "Did you say…?"

"You heard me, £25, well £35 if you include these." He tapped on a matching wooden chair, identical to the one he was sat on.

"But, why are they so cheap?" He was having hard time getting his head around his luck. The man just shrugged.

"Cut a long story short, I've had them since I was a kid, and when was about to go to Uni my parent were talking about getting rid of them. That idea hurt me so much I brought them here with me." He sigh sadly. "Unfortunately, middle of last year I found out I was going to be moving into a smaller dorm, where there's barely enough room for a bed each, let alone my beloved table and chairs. I've been trying to get them off my hands ever since, but no one's ever taken any interest, and I can't bring myself to take them to the tip, so the price just got lower and lower." Hershel ran his fingers along the surface of the table.

"Sounds like it's been very loved." He almost muttered.

"That's all I want for it now, a loving home." There was a short pause, the owner opened his mouth to speak, when Clark came jogging over.

"Guess what, Hershel? I got the blighter for 50 quid! And not only that, but he threw in a free desk chair! A free desk chair!" He leaned in and whispered. "So that I'd keep my mouth shut about some dodgy secrets in some of his stock." He grinned at Hershel, who gave him a grateful smile. "So," he folded his arms. "Shall we get our winnings back to your place?"

"Yeah," Hershel agree, elated by the results. He hesitated a moment, before addressing the owner of the table. "And I'll take all of this as well."

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><p>After realising they had no way of getting their shopping back to the dorm, the man who had sold them the table and chairs offered to drive it there in his truck. Once there he also helped them carry the desk up the seven flights of stairs, Hershel could only guess this was out of pure gratitude for taking such a burden off his hands. Once everything was in the room, he and Clark spent about half an hour finding the best homes for everything. The end result was a little cramped, but neat and homely. "Nice, very nice…" Clark commented when they'd finished, as Hershel fell face first onto his bed. Clark raised an eyebrow, his next words had a trickle of cruel pleasure about them. "... But we're not done yet!" It was all Hershel could do not to groan.<p>

Their next trip brought them back with the following items: A small kettle to go with the tea set that had come with the table (although they were yet to work out how to keep milk in his room), a calendar, a desk lamp, two small, framed paintings, a letter set and a new lamp shade. Clark then rushed over to his own dorm and back for a hammer and nails and proceeded to bang a few into the walls. Once everything was hung up and arranged, they put up the new light shade and switched on the bulb (it was dark by that time they'd finished), the room was aglow in such a way that it hadn't since Hershel moved there, Clark stepped back and grinned. "That's better!" He exclaimed with joy, and Hershel had to agree.

Then they had dinner. Clark had brought some sandwiches and sausage rolls which they ate cold. When finished, Clark lay back in his chair and looked around at his work. "You know, when we first got here about six hours ago, I wanted to get out as quickly as possible, but now, I don't wanna leave." All the same he picked up his things and made for the door. "See you on Sunday, Hershel."

"Clark." The man stopped and turned. "... Thank you." Clark smiled back at him.

"Told you you would." Then he left, closing the door behind him. Hershel cleared up the things from their meal, then settled down for bed, feeling for the first time that this place could become home.


	8. Chapter 65: Author's Note

**Okay, so, I know I promised a second chapter, but I was writing it and thinking "you know what? Why am I bothering?" You see, the thing is, I know that this story is not very good at the moment, and the reason for that is that I'm rushing it. 'And why is that?' You ask? Well, as annoying as is it, I wrote this story to get back into the mood for writing before starting the sequel for The Third Heir (if you haven't already please read it :) ), but now, I want to get back to that story more than I want to finish this one. I'm not sure what to do, so I'm leaving the final decision to you amazing people; Should I leave this story, write the one I want to and perhaps do a bigger and better rewrite of this later on? Or should I finish what I started? If you could leave your thoughts in the reviews I would be more than grateful and what ever is decided will be effective by next weekend.**

**Thanks again for everything :) **


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